At some point last night, my fingernails started to fall off. I didn't notice it. I don't notice anything when I'm working. There are so many machines around me, and I have earphones jammed so tightly in me ears that parts of my earlobes have scabbed over. It is easy to forget that I am human, surrounded by so many machines. Each one has another
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The other thing that strikes me about this is that this is what it looks like when a good, experienced writer does angst. Because you're a lot more subtle about it. But it is angsty, and I love that because angst is a necessary part of literature--but not teenage angst. So good job.
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